


No Fear

by Sue Corkill (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/Sue%20Corkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes being safe isn't enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I needed to write after watching Heroes 2. Hugs and kisses to Linz and Wendy for all their help.
> 
> Originally posted March 2004.

NO FEAR

Sam stood outside the door, aching to go inside but afraid at what might happen the moment she saw him...spoke to him. The events of the past few days had been overwhelming but she'd forced herself to stay away, even though everything within her needed his presence, his strength. But there was too much at risk right now, what with Woolsey's investigation, the camera crew and Bergman lurking around every corner. And Janet...the tears that were never far away started to once more spill over. Hearing footsteps from down the corridor, Sam quickly brushed them away and knocked on the door, stepping inside.

Something deep inside her eased a bit when she saw him, the tightness in her chest diminishing fractionally. He looked good, tired...but alive. The binder he was just covering with his T-shirt a grim reminder of what had almost been. She suppressed a shiver, the image of him lying unconscious on the ground, the edges of his charred uniform still smoking were burned into her brain. Forcing her thoughts away from that image, she spoke. 

"Sir, I heard you were up and around."

"Yeah, ahh... still a little tender." He finished pulling his shirt down. "But they said I could go home."

"Lucky that staff blast hit you where it did. That new vest insert works well."

"Didn't help Fraiser much."

She tried not to flinch, his words the horribly sad truth. "No."

"How's Cassie?" Jack stood then, moving fairly easily Sam noted, as he reached for his jacket.

"She's a strong kid, she survives, you know." She almost broke down then, no child-no matter how strong-should have to lose a second mother. 

"Yeah." Jack put his jacket on. "Speaking at the memorial?"

She couldn't say anything for a moment, everything she wanted to tell him rising to the surface, begging to be released. But she couldn't...she didn't dare let it out, because it would destroy her. "Sir, I just wanted to say...when you were lying there..." her eyes filled with tears, but she wasn't going to run away this time. And since she couldn't tell him what she really wanted to, she settled for, "I'm really glad you're okay."

He didn't say anything, his expression as somber and unreadable as ever, his brown eyes reflecting none of the turmoil she knew was shining out of hers. She didn't look away, even when the tears spilled over and she could feel her emotions breaking through to the surface. She kept her tearful gaze focused on the one constant in her life—the man standing in front of her. Through everything that had happened to her since she'd joined the Stargate program, he had been there. And even if she couldn't say how she felt out loud, she could tell him with her eyes. Letting all her love shine through, she watched in wonder when his eyes darkened even more and then he spoke.

"C'mere."

She went into his arms without a second thought. Never mind where they were or the constraints of their respective rank. She needed him...she needed him. His breath was warm against her neck, his lips trailed lightly along her neck, a slow shiver coursing through her that had nothing to do with the pain that still lurked within her heart but everything to do with the man who held her so tightly.

"Come home with me?"

His voice was a mere whisper in her ear. She closed her eyes. Hope that usually stayed so deeply buried that she had forgotten its presence bloomed into life. Could she risk it? Could she possibly dare to do what her heart demanded? The image of his still form and pale face in those moments before she'd known whether he was alive or dead filled her brain; quickly followed by Janet Fraiser lying motionless on the stretcher, her medics working vainly to save her. 

"Yes," she whispered. It was the only thing she could say.

His arms loosened and she stepped back. One large hand brushed a stray tear off her cheek. "Meet me at the elevator on level nineteen in twenty minutes."

She nodded, not trusting her voice and slowly backed out of the room, vividly aware of the latent fire burning behind the sadness in his eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ninety minutes later Sam maneuvered Jack's truck into his driveway—his one concession to his injury had been to allow her to drive. Their journey had been conducted mostly in silence, except for the occasional murmur of directions from Jack, for which Sam was thankful. It had taken all her reserves to make it out of the mountain and to his truck, barely managing to avoid a somewhat subdued Bregman and his ever-present camera. 

She turned off the ignition, her eyes flicking to the man sitting next to her. His eyes were closed and she briefly wondered if was asleep, but then he took a deep breath, turned his head and looked at her. He looked even paler in the natural light, dark circles vivid under his eyes and the tight set of his mouth testifying to the ordeal he'd been through. And while one small voice inside her whispered that coming with him would only intensify his pain...her pain, she had finally gone beyond the point where she could deny him anything. 

"Home, sweet home," he muttered. 

Sam tried to summon a smile, but failed. The pain of loss—both real and potential—was still too fresh. And the reality of sitting in his truck, preparing to go with him into his home, was slowly sinking in. Shared grief and pain might have motivated his invitation, but she had accepted for purely selfish reasons. The sound of the passenger door opening was loud in the quiet of the cab. Sam scrambled out after him, making sure the locks and alarm were activated before following him up the walk. He stood patiently by the front door and she silently handed him the keys. The brief contact of her fingers with his sent a jolt of awareness arcing through her. His eyes snapped to hers, his dark eyes giving nothing away, the fleeting joy of the accidental touch fading with his grim look. Maybe she was being too selfish....

"Maybe I better go..." she murmured, fumbling to open her briefcase and get her cell phone to call a cab.

He paused, the door halfway open. "Don't be stupid."

Anger flared. "I'm not being stupid," she snapped. "I'm being—" 

"Safe?" he supplied.

She dropped her phone back in the briefcase and closed it with a sharp click. The bleak resignation in his voice and increasingly remote expression confirming what she had only started to suspect, that his need was as great as hers. He should be dead, Janet was dead....

"You're right," she said. "I'm being stupid." A smile flickered briefly around his lips before he pushed the door the rest of the way open and gestured for her to enter. She brushed past him, sealing both their fates. The room was dim, the curtains were pulled and she set her briefcase down on the floor next to one of the chairs, shrugging out of her jacket and neatly laying it over the chair. She wasn't sure what to do next, so far every move had been made by Jack.

Initially tensing when she felt him behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders and his warm breath lightly ruffling her hair, she took a deep breath and forced herself to relax and rested against him. His hands slid slowly down her arms before pulling her even closer, his arms closing around her. Oh god, she let her eyes drift shut, simply absorbing his presence. Earlier, back at the base, she'd been too upset...but now, now she felt a curious peace, here in his house, in his arms. The pain was still there and would be for a very long time, but there was peace to be found here, with this man.

Her thoughts drifted and before she realized it, she blurted out, "Cassie's just a little older than I was, when my mother died."

"She's strong, you said so yourself," he murmured, nuzzling her hair.

"I know...but I still had my Dad and Mark. She doesn't have anybody."

"She has you, she has the rest of us. Doesn't Fraiser have a sister?"

Sam nodded; Cassie's future was less of a mystery than hers was at this point. Cassie would graduate from high school in less than three months and she'd already been accepted at the University of Colorado, her future assured by the Air Force. "I just wish..." her voice trailed off when she realized how pathetic she sounded. 

"That she was still alive?" 

Her laugh was bitter. "I was so relieved when I found out you were alive, it was like I had been given my life back." He gave a low murmur, his arms tightening around her. "And then, in the midst of my gladness, I find out that one of my dearest friends died that day anyway. It's just not fair," she complained.

"No, it's not," he agreed and she was relieved that he didn't try to placate her or convince her otherwise. She had known life was unfair ever since the day her mother was taken from her. Of course, so did the man who currently held her in his arms.

She turned in his grasp then; he loosened his hold but still kept his arms draped around her waist. "What would I have done if you had died?" she wondered out loud, her voice soft and her hand tender as she reached up and caressed his cheek.

"You would have gone on." His eyes darkened, some of the earlier shadows returning, and she wondered if his emotions were going to finally bleed through. "Gotten a life."

She shook her head. "I have a life."

He didn't pretend to not understand, for which she was thankful. And then his impassive façade broke, a low sound rumbling up from his chest, his hands tightening on her waist. "Then when are you going to start living it?" he questioned roughly.

"Now," she murmured, surprised at how easy the word flowed out of her mouth—and her heart. Action followed thought and before he could even respond, she clutched his shoulders and pressed her lips to his. He stiffened and she felt a momentary despair. When she felt a shudder run through his lean frame she panicked and tightened her arms around him, her mouth hungry and demanding. She didn't want him to stop and think, she wanted to drive any other thoughts out of his mind except for the desire that had been finally freed.

She eagerly probed his lips with her tongue, tugging on his lower lip with her teeth, pleading with him to give in to her demands. Her urgency was overwhelming, as she desperately channeled her grief into passion. The rational part of her sent out a small warning, the intensity of her emotions racing like wildfire through her vulnerable psyche, but Sam firmly ignored it. Nothing mattered right now except the fact that he was alive—and he was in her arms. 

His lack of response finally penetrated through her arousal, hands that had only moments before been tugging his shirt free from his trousers, falling limp to her side. And when she looked in his eyes, the smoldering anger in their brown depths shocked her. Backing up a pace, she ran a shaking hand through her hair and tugged her T-shirt back down.

"I'm sorry," she managed to whisper, her voice breaking off into a soft gasp when strong hands gripped her wrists with bruising strength. 

"I'm not here for your convenience, a handy body you can use to block the pain," he growled. 

Shame and confusion washed through her. Was that what she'd been doing? Seeking the sweet rush of oblivion to dull her senses and replace her pain with physical pleasure? "No," she whispered, "it's not like that--"

His hard hands had trailed up to her shoulders and he shook her slightly. "Than exactly what the hell is it? Because if you thought whatever happened once we got here was just some...temporary indulgence to make you feel better, then you'd better call your boyfriend."

She wrested free from his grasp then. "Is that what you think?" she asked, pain even more severe than what she'd felt when she though he was dead coursing through her. "That I would use you—or him—like that?"

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face in a familiar gesture. "What am I supposed to think, Sam?"

"I wanted something normal," she confessed, not wanting anymore secrets between them. "But it turned out to be anything but normal and then when I realized that I was just using him...well, I wasn't very proud of myself, or what I had done." The edgy mixture of despair, grief and desire rolling like a storm inside compelled her next words. "For what it's worth, it's always been you."

"I don't know anymore if that's enough, Sam." 

His words shocked her. Had she been so self-centered that she had taken him for granted? Blindly assuming that he would always be there for her—no matter what? And what made her feel even guiltier, was that he had always been there for her...even when he had thought she had someone else in her life.

"Jack," she said deliberately, ignoring the sudden flare of warning in his eyes. "Why did you invite me here?" 

It was his turn to look uncomfortable and she wanted to relent, but if he was going to force this issue, then he was going to have to do some confessing as well. He didn't say anything for a long time, seemingly intent on studying his boots. But he finally looked up, his eyes shuttered—she instinctively knew—against revealing too much and said, "Because I thought you needed me."

Hope once more glimmered in her heart and she took a tentative step closer to him. "I do need you."

She thought there was an answering gleam in his eyes, but he still looked somber when he replied. "Is that all? You just need me?"

Shuffling closer, Sam reached out and touched his forearm lightly. When he didn't draw away, she trailed her fingers down to his hand and twined her fingers with his. "Need you, want you, love you." She smiled wryly, tears threatening again. "Basically don't want to live without you."

"Is that enough?"

"It's all I have," she admitted.

His eyes finally softened. "Then I guess it will be enough."

She didn't try to hide the tears that spilled over at his words, but there was just one more thing. "Tell me again why you asked me here?" she asked, her voice and eyes gentle.

Again, he took his time and she began to wonder if she was expecting too much, when he finally spoke. 

"Because I need you," he murmured. 

An answer—which unlike for him—was sufficient for her. He tugged on her hand then and she went willingly into his arms, burying her face in his neck. She sighed, nestling closer and simply absorbing his presence, the undemanding embrace comforting her in ways she wasn't sure she understood, but wasn't about to question. She'd questioned and second-guessed enough of her feelings for one lifetime. Right now she was going to accept whatever he offered, for in his arms there was peace and—she whimpered helplessly when his soothing caresses changed to something more urgent—desire.

Twisting subtly in his embrace, she rubbed her breasts against his chest and shifted her stance so that so that she cradled his burgeoning erection against her belly. Sam felt the embers of desire slowly rekindle, flickering back into life and burning all the hotter, she realized, now that the initial firestorm was over. One large hand moved lazily down her back, pressing in at the base of her spine and she rotated her pelvis leisurely against him. His throttled groan made her smile and she moved her head slightly, pressing soft kisses against his throat. She continued to kiss him, enjoying the tender caresses when he suddenly shifted, one hand now cradling the back of her head while the other continued to hold her close, his mouth descending to hers.

Her lashes fluttered shut, the intensity of his gaze sweeping through her and promising a passion she had never dared to imagine. His lips lightly brushed hers, teasing and arousing, hinting at the even greater pleasure that awaited. She whimpered, one hand clutching frantically in his short hair, unmindful of the fierce grip, intent on only one thing—his mouth fused endlessly to hers. Before she knew what was happening, his hands were gripping her wrists again, pulling out of her embrace. 

"What?" she asked, panic starting to set in all over again until she saw the tender look of desire in his eyes. He smiled and she relaxed, small frissons of pleasure running up her arms from where his thumbs rubbed the insides of her wrists. 

"I can think of some place better to continue this."

Her lips curved into a radiant smile. "Can you now?"

"Mmmhmm." He leaned closer and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. "Come with me." 

"Anywhere," she told him, pleased when a smile flickered briefly on his face. He released one of her hands and she eagerly followed him down the hallway to his bedroom. 

Once they crossed the threshold into his room, he let go of her hand and she stood awkwardly just inside the doorway, as he partially closed the blinds. The subdued afternoon light did nothing to mask the weariness in his face or the slight wince when he turned back to her. She crossed the few steps to him and laid her hand gently on his abdomen, the binder she could feel beneath his T-shirt a grim reminder of the circumstances that had brought them to this point. 

"I'm not so sure this is a good idea," she told him, rubbing her hand gently against the soft cotton of his shirt. 

"It'll be okay." 

She gave him a skeptical look. 

"I'm okay," he reassured her. 

She studied his face carefully and he withstood her scrutiny, his dark brown gaze never wavering. And beneath the weariness and pain of his recent ordeal she could see a deeper pain, a pain that she knew all too well. Sliding her hand up his chest to his face, she caressed his cheek, smoothing her fingers over the careworn lines that time and suffering had etched on his handsome face. "I don't want to hurt you," she whispered.

"You won't," he murmured.

She wasn't sure she believed him, but she wanted him more than she doubted him. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she gently pushed and he obediently sat on the edge of the bed. Kneeling in front of him, she reached for his t-shirt, carefully easing it over his abdomen and then over his chest and off. The stark white binder a mute testament to his brush with death, the mottled bruising spreading beyond the dressing surprisingly vivid in the dim light. She couldn't suppress the soft sound of distress at the sight, delicately touching the discolored skin with fingers that were suddenly trembling. 

"Sam." A gentle touch under her chin brought her stricken gaze to him. "It's okay."

"I know," she mumbled, "I just...." She slid her hand up his chest until it rested over his heart, the steady lub-dub bringing yet more tears stinging her eyes. "I'm just really glad you're okay."

He smiled, brushing gently at the tears on her cheek. "I think we've already established that fact," he teased. 

She managed a wet smile and took a deep breath, forcing her grief back into the deep recesses of her mind. She knew she'd have to deal with death again, but not right now, right now it was time to deal with life. Leaning closer, she began placing soft kisses on his face. He shifted, his hands resting gently on her shoulders and spreading his knees, allowing her to move closer. Even though it was still early afternoon, his cheek was pleasantly rough against her lips as she placed a trail of wet kisses along his jaw. Her hands moved down his chest, her nails raking through the smattering of hair. When her fingers brushed against the binder, she placed one last kiss along his jaw and leaned back slightly so she could concentrate on her next task. 

Deftly unfastening his belt, she worked the buttons free, pleased to feel his growing erection when her fingers couldn't help but brush against him. Even protected by the thin cotton of his boxers, the heat and strength was incredibly intoxicating. Running her hands down the insides of his still cloth-covered thighs, she skimmed her legs down his calves until she ran into his boots. She bit off a soft curse when the laces proved to be stubborn, a low chuckle his only response as she carefully removed his boots and socks. After briefly massaging his feet—this time he groaned at his touch—she was soon drawn back to her original task. 

Slipping her hands inside the waistband of his trousers, she cautiously tugged and murmured encouragingly. Jack readily obliged, leaning back on his elbows and lifting his hips slightly so that she could pull his remaining garments off. Resting back on her knees, his clothes fell from her hands and she stared at him...oh god...he was magnificent. Even the presence of the binder couldn't detract from his strong masculinity. Everything that was female in her responded to the sight of him lying before her...waiting for her. She could actually feel her body readying itself for him, her panties getting wetter with every passing minute. She needed him inside her.

Abruptly standing, she as only half-aware of the lustful gleam in his eyes when she tugged her T-shirt off. But when he scooted back further onto the bed and she realized he was avidly watching her, she deliberately slowed down. Taking great care—and ensuring he was still watching—Sam reached behind her to unfasten the hooks of her bra. She wished she was wearing something more alluring than white cotton and promised herself that one day she'd be wearing black lace when she undressed for him. However, the plain white cotton wasn't without its effect.

"Sam," he all but growled as she stood there. "Just take the damn thing off."

"Yes, sir," she teased, releasing the clasp and then leisurely shimmying, the straps dropping down her shoulders and with a final shake, the garment dropped to her feet. The hot gleam in his eyes prompted her to stretch, displaying her pale beauty for him. She studied him from under her lashes, letting her hands glide provocatively over her breasts before letting them flutter to the waist of her trousers. She slipped the buttons free before bending at the waist and unlacing her boots. Thank goodness for calisthenics, she thought dryly as she effortlessly completed the maneuver. Slipping her boots and socks off--and making sure she still had his attention, Sam straightened up and almost casually dragged her trousers—and equally white panties—over her slim hips, letting them drop to her ankles. Stepping out of them, she crawled onto the bed with him.

Kneeling next to him, Sam smiled tenderly when he reached up and fondled her breasts, his rough fingertips an enticing contrast to her smooth flesh. Leaning down, she kissed him. One of his hands slipped around to her back, urging her closer. She shifted lower, half-reclining on her side next to him. With her resting against his chest, they continued to kiss, lips, tongues and teeth tasting and teasing. Losing herself in the sweet pleasure of their kisses, his arms contracted around her and she relaxed fully against him, his sudden groan of pain catching her unawares.

Sam immediately sat up. "Jack," she whispered, close to tears again at the tight look of pain that was just fading on his face. "I'm so sorry." She reached out to touch him, but she didn't want to hurt him again, her hand fluttering indecisively over his chest before he grabbed it. 

Pulling her hand down to his lips, he kissed her fingers. "Not your fault," he told her. She tried to pull her hand free, but he wouldn't let her.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she apologized again. "I want..." she looked helplessly at him, trying to convey her uncertainty and fear. The last thing she wanted to do was cause him more pain. He didn't say anything, just gazed steadily at her. "I want to do this...." His eyes flashed and his mouth twitched and she felt a flush creep up her cheeks. "I just don't know how..." her voice once more trailed off in uncertainty.

Jack's brown eyes filled with tenderness then and he released her hand. She let it gently drop down to his chest. His voice was deep and full of restrained passion when he spoke. "Lie down on your side, facing towards me," he instructed.

"Jack, I don't—"

His fingers pressed against her lips stopped her. "Trust me on this, Sam."

She nodded and did as he asked, lying down beside him. He turned onto his side as well and they faced each other, heads side-by-side on the pillow.

"Come here," he murmured and she moved closer, until their bodies were touching. He shifted and she rested her head on his arm, shivering at the delicious contact as flesh met flesh for the first time. Their lips met in tender kisses, hands stroking and caressing. Sam was vividly aware of his erection prodding her stomach and she hungered for more. His mouth had left hers and was now tracing a lazy path down her throat, which while delightful, only increased the ache deep inside her.

Still mindful of his injury, she carefully rested her upper leg on his hip, settling closer. "Jack," she whimpered against his hair.

"Mmm..." came the muffled reply from the vicinity of her breasts, where his mouth was busy placing kisses on her soft skin. She moaned softly when he sucked a tight nipple into his mouth. It wasn't fair, she decided hazily, the hot suction of his mouth on her breast was the most delicious type of torment, almost driving thoughts of anything else from her pleasure soaked mind. Almost.... "Please", she all but begged, reaching between their entwined bodies and stroking his rigid length. It was his turn to groan, his legs tangling with hers and his hips started rocking gently in time with her caresses. Sam tightened her leg around him, urging him to complete their union. 

He released her breast, almost reluctantly it seemed, and shifted slightly, pulling her leg higher. His penis rubbed through her slick folds, a mere prelude to the greater pleasure that awaited. 

What followed was probably the most intimate moment of her entire life. "Sam," he murmured roughly and her eyes moved automatically to his. His head was once more lying on the pillow and she forced herself to relax with him. Her eyes never left his, her hand coming to rest against his heart as his penis probed through her soft flesh before finally seeking entrance. At the first tentative touch, she took a deep breath and tilted her pelvis towards him in gentle encouragement. His large hand tightened on her hip and with a gentle thrust of his hips he was inside her. 

She gasped softly at the initial invasion, the profound feeling of relief at finally having him inside her almost overwhelming. A look of equal relief shown in his hot gaze and then he started to move. His large hand gripped her hip tightly and she hooked her leg firmly around his hips, adding to his leverage. Their position didn't allow for the deep of penetration she craved, but it would be enough. Given what had almost happened to him, it was more than enough. 

Sam soon discovered though that there was an added benefit to his shallow thrusts as their position and the slow, steady movements provided unexpected stimulation. She cried out his name softly when the first tremors of her slowly building orgasm rippled through her. She never looked away, fighting the urge to close her eyes. Instead, she let him watch, let him see how she burned for him. His brown eyes flared even hotter with satisfaction and she was helpless to anything except what he dictated. Sam surrendered to the power of their love, trusting Jack with something more precious than her life or heart—her soul. 

Her vision blurred with tears as she sobbed his name, shuddering endlessly in his arms, pleasure almost too intense to endure and survive igniting her nerve endings until the only reality in her life was Jack O'Neill. Her face was buried in his throat and she somehow had both arms around him clinging to him shakily when she heard his low groan in her ear. His hips jerked convulsively against her and she felt the hot wash of seed as his orgasm took him. 

Jack collapsed against her and she carefully eased onto her back. He melted against her, nestling close, his body a welcome weight against her, the continued closeness satisfying her almost as much as her earlier orgasm. 

She held him for a long time, until his body relaxed in sleep against hers. Stroking his hair, she let the tears return. Tears for Janet, tears for Cassie, tears for herself. No matter how right it currently felt to hold him in her arms, the most sensible course of action would be to leave before she got in any deeper. Her fingers stilled in his hair, a sound halfway between a laugh and sob escaped before she could stop it. She hated being afraid, scared of so many things. Her feelings for him, the potential consequences of doing what they'd just done. The most sensible thing...she sighed, no, sense had nothing to do with it, she decided. She had always taken the safest route with this thing between them. Did she care enough for him to fight for what they could have? 

God, she was such a hypocrite, she'd told him earlier that it had always been him—but evidently it was only him when it was 'safe' for her. Her heart was pounding and she felt sick, whatever courage had brought her this far had deserted her. She couldn't treat him like this way and she was still too afraid of the magnitude of her feelings to do anything else. She started to move, slowly easing her arms from around him when he suddenly moved and she found herself trapped by his all-too-knowing eyes. 

"Playing it safe again?"

She didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound like some pathetic excuse or feeble lie. He deserved so much more than that—so much more than she could offer. "This...us," she admitted slowly, "scares me more than anything I've ever faced out there." He nodded, his eyes softening some and that small acceptance eased some of the twisting in her gut. 

"There are a lot of things in life to be afraid of Sam, even if you don't fight the Goa'uld for a living." 

She couldn't help but smile at his comment. His expression softened, but his eyes were still serious when he continued.

"But don't ever be afraid of what we have between us. No matter what happens, we'll deal with it. Cassie, Woolsey, Hammond, the Goa'uld, it doesn't matter." 

Her eyes misted with tears again. The sincerity in his voice speaking more loudly than his words. She nodded slowly, accepting the truth. 

"There's only one thing that matters."

She reached up and caressed his cheek. "I know," she reassured him, fighting down the last remnants of doubt. And then prompted by a distant memory she added, a quiet yearning in her voice and eyes. "No fear?"

His eyes darkened and the look on his face took her breath away. "Only perfect love." 

THE END


End file.
